The Night Remembers - Part 35
"Bloody hell," Spike shouted, spinning around and staking a vampire. "You
stupid idiots, will you stop trying to bite my neck! I'm a bleeding vampire
you block heads." Slipping into his game face, he punched another vampire
straight into its face.
"And I'm no vampire at all," came Faith's hiss from the side. "But you
shouldn't try fooling around with a slayer either, it's lethal," she said
while another demon disintegrated into ashes right in front of her. "Xander,
look out!"
The young man whirled around but the approaching vampire was already on him,
its head lowering towards the human's throat.
"Will you stop trying to eat my boyfriend," Anya jumped the vampire's back,
clinging to him she began to hit its head with the stake she was holding in
her hand. Then the demon was suddenly gone and Anya stumbled to the ground.
"Next time," Faith said, towering above her, "no hitting, just sta-, oh no,
you don't," with a swift movement she was able to remove a demon from her
back, slamming it into the wall in the process. "Sorry," she said, not
feeling sorry at all, "but this is your stop." The stake found its mark and
for a moment silence settled over the tunnel. "Are we all clear?" she asked
looking around. "Kate?"
"Fine," the police officer coughed through all the ashes in the air. "That
was quite a bunch of them."
"Yeah, a bunch, but stupid as hell," Spike remarked, dusting off his
clothes. "You know, I just realized that vampire ashes are a real nuisance
if you try to get them out of your clothing. Last time I washed-"
"Wait a second," Faith interrupted looking at him very oddly, "you actually
*wash* your clothes?"
"Of course I wash my clothes," he seemed honestly insulted by her words,
"Just because I'm a vampire it doesn't mean I've lost my sense of style. Clean
clothes are a part of it."
"Then how many outfits do you own exactly?"
"Uh - one," he mumbled.
"And if you..." she tilted her head, then started laughing, "you mean
you're..." she was now laughing so hard she had to hold your belly. "Oh
God!"
"Hey, no need to make fun of a vampire," he grumbled.
"Well, not that this isn't extremely interesting, especially after we're
barely survived a vampire attack, but may I remind you that there's still an
open hellmouth waiting for us." Xander shook his head not quite believing
what he was hearing.
"Just thinking that Spike's standing naked while..." the slayer couldn't
stop the mental images flying through her mind and as a result, the laughing
wouldn't stop.
"Okay," the vampire growled, "I think we all got it now. Stop laughing!"
She took a deep breath, her grin still wide, "But Xander is right, we need
to get going."
"Do you also think it's cold all of a sudden?" Kate asked, rubbing her arms.
"Yeah," Anya agreed, "it's almost freezing."
"And what's this?" Faith pointed at the spot where the light was coming
from.
"Mist ... uh-oh," Xander said alarmed. "I-" The words died in his throat and
confused he tried to speak on, but no sound was coming out. He was reminded
by another time when the Gentlemen had stolen their voices. 'Anya', he
mouthed trying to communicate with his girlfriend.
'What's going on?' she mouthed back.
'Bloody hell," Xander could read from Spike before the mist became denser
and seeing each other was suddenly difficult.
**Oh great**, Xander thought, **no voice, so sight, just what we need**.
Then Anya disappeared completely from his view.
*****
Buffy blinked against the bright light of the cavern she found herself in.
The last thing she remembered was encountering too many Morah-demons that
had been sent to take them prisoner and lucky for them, they succeeded.
Angel had... Angel! Panic surged through her and she frantically looked
around in search of her lover.
When her eyes fell on him, a sound escaped her mouth. He was huddled into a
corner, his eyes closed, bruises marring his face, his head and back leaning
against the wall. She scrambled over and took his hand, "Angel," she
whispered, her hands moving over him, checking him for serious injuries.
"Angel, please, wake up," the last word was lost in a sob.
Where were they, what was going on? The Morah demons had overwhelmed them,
and then Buffy remembered falling into unconsciousness and now she found
herself at a unknown location, with an unknown fate although she had a very
good idea what this was all about.
"Buffy."
The hoarse voice of her lover had her head snapping around. "Angel, how are
you?" she asked urgently.
"As if a truck ran right over me," he replied, looking at her, then around,
"Where are we?"
"That's the one-million-dollar question," she said, getting up and looking
for exits. There were windows, but each one of them was secured by bars that
looked very solid. The only door was made of iron and seemed solid as well.
"It looks like we're locked up... somewhere."
"Yeah, that much I gathered," Angel muttered and struggled to get up. With a
groan, he leaned forward, and Buffy was by his side in an instant.
"Easy there, big guy, easy. You might be a vampire, but they beat us up
pretty hard or rather you," she said a bit sheepishly. "I only remember
being hit on the head and passing out. Not very heroic."
He smiled at her lovingly when he finally straightened. "I saw you go down,"
he said, his eyes shadowed. He could remember the rage when had seen them
touching his mate and the panic when he saw her sink to the ground. "But if
it's any help, I didn't hold out much longer," he grimaced and touched his
ribs. He could tell a couple of them were broken, but also healing already.
Fortunately, he'd fed before they'd left the mansion and was in no need of
blood.
Buffy looked around again, "This sucks," she said planting her hands on her
hips, "if I at least knew where we are," she shook her head, hating feeling
helpless, hating being the prey and not the hunter.
"I don't think there's much we can do," Angel walked over to the bars
securing the windows, "There's no way we can get out the usual way and the
witches aren't with us - unfortunately."
"Oh God, Willow!" the slayer paled, "Do you think they're alright? Do you
think their spell worked? And what about the others... God, Angel, we need
to get out of here."
"I agree, but as I said before, I don't see how," he moved towards the door,
trying the handle, he shook his head, "Damn it. This really isn't what we
needed."
Buffy began to pace the room they were in, her strides impatient and angry,
"There has to be a way out of here," she said, punching one fist into the
palm of the other hand. "The others need our help."
"I know," Angel said quietly, "but-"
She whirled around, suddenly furious with him, with the situation, with her
own helplessness, "Don't be so damned rational," she spat. "They could die,
Angel, our friends could be dead already, don't you even care?"
The same moment, when his eyes clouded over with pain, she wanted to kill
herself for saying it. "Oh, Angel," tears welled up in her eyes, "I'm
sorry," she whispered, one of her hands flying to her lips. "I didn't mean
that, I swear, I didn't."
His answering smile was a bit shaky, "I know," he assured her, holding a
hand out for her.
Without hesitation she went into his arms, holding him, "I'm sorry. I'm
sorry," she repeated. "I know you care. It's just... I feel so helpless. I'm
the slayer, I'm supposed to protect them, and here I am, caged in, damned to
do nothing." She leaned her head against his chest and his hand was stroking
her hair.
"I know," he said, "I understand. I feel the same. Our friends are out
there, fighting our fight."
"Yeah," she agreed, laying a hand over the spot where his heart had once
beaten, the heart that was still now, yet nevertheless feeling so strongly,
and... Her eyes flew open, she gasped and something close to pain ripped
through her head and body. Images, playing vividly in her mind. Images of
another time, another place and...
"Oh God," her head jerked up, her eyes locking with his, hers full of pain
and grief, his confused, not understanding.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook them slightly, "Buffy! What is it? What
is the matter?"
"Angel... I... you..." she stuttered.
"I, what?"
"You were human." She forced the words through her constricted throat.
He jerked back, staring at her, "What?" he whispered, with horror clenching
his guts. "What are you talking about?"
"You were human," she repeated, calmer now. The images in her head were
clearing, giving way to understanding, opening the gates of memory. But with
the memories came more pain, more guilt, "Oh, God," she sobbed, clutching to
him, "you were human. I felt your heart beat."
"Buffy," he choked, realizing what was happening, remembering a time when
she'd said the exact same thing. A moment when she'd cried in his arms,
clinging to him with all her might, begging for more time, for another fate,
for mercy.
"And you gave it back. You asked them to turn you back. Oh God!" She was
sobbing harder now. She held him tightly, desperately needing the closure,
guilt almost overwhelming her. "And I... oh God," there was nothing she
could do or say to excuse her actions, nothing that would ever repay what
he'd given up for her.
Then another memory came. She saw herself and Angel facing each other,
shouting at each other, hurting each other, heard herself telling him how
much she loved Riley, how much she trusted Riley... "I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Angel, I'm so sorry," she sobbed again, not able to look at him. "I hurt
you," she cried, "I never loved Riley, Angel. I'm sorry, I lied to you."
"What?" again he was confused.
"I was telling you I loved Riley. I never did, I promise," she touched his
face, caressed his cheeks, her eyes begging for forgiveness. "What sort of
person was I? What happened? How could I go and be with Riley, tell you I
loved him after what you gave up for me? What kind of person does something
like that?"
"Shhh," he soothed her, kissing her forehead, "Buffy-"
"No," her reply was sharp. "Only a very cold-hearted person would do such a
thing. Only a bi-"
"You didn't know," he interrupted her gently. "You didn't know, Buffy," he
repeated, his gentle hands trailing over her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, his
eyes shining with love, with understanding.
"What?" she shook her head in confusion. "That's nonsense, Angel. I lost my
memory only recently..." she trailed off when she saw him shaking his head,
"What?"
"Don't ask me why you regained the memory of that day now," he began in a
try to explain, "Because I don't understand it. Obviously... although it
should be impossible... you are remembering it with all the other stuff in
your life. But you were never meant to remember that day."
"Why?" Her eyes were brimming with tears, begging him to explain.
"In order to turn me back into a vampire, the Oracles or the Powers That Be,
whoever was in charge, had to turn back the day. When I asked them to turn
me back I had no idea that would be the only way, but considering all facts
I agreed." The smile on his face was sad, but full of love, "There was no
way I could watch you die without being able to help."
"But why don't... didn't I remember?"
"It was to spare you the agony of remembering something that could never
be."
"But... you...?" she didn't finish the sentence, but he understood
nevertheless.
"One of us had to remember or it might have happen again," he explained,
stroking her cheek.
"So all this time you remembered and I was completely oblivious?" She saw
him nod and went on, "Well that sucks."
Despite all the pain the revelation had caused, Angel felt himself chuckle,
"Yeah," he agreed, "It does. But then our life sucks most of the time
anyway."
"True," she nodded, resolutely wiping the tears from her cheeks with the
back of her hands, "But no more," she said, her chin coming up. "This time
we're going to stay together."
"Buffy..." he wanted to remind her of the still very existent danger, but
what could he say in the face of the hope and optimism she'd forced into her
eyes, when he was looking at her and the love was shining from them.
"We will stay together," her voice was firm. "You have to believe it. And we
will survive this and so will all our friends. We need to believe it."
"Buffy-" he started again, but was cut off by a voice.
"Again with the negative," the voice chuckled and they both spun around to look
at the person talking to them. They hadn't heard a door opening and when Angel
came face to face with the owner of the voice, he almost fainted.
"D-Doyle?" he gasped.
"Aye, that's me. Alan Francis Doyle, at your service, sir," he grinned and
added, "madam," then bowled slightly.
"You're dead," Angel managed to choke out.
"My, aren't you clever tonight," the Irishman joked. "Yeah, I am. So what?
You're dead, too," he said, grinning. "Hasn't slowed you down so far. Nice
to meet you again, Buffy," he turned towards the slayer, his grin widening
into a leer. "Can't blame the bugger," he sighed, "He has remarkable taste."
"What's going on?" the vampire asked confused, his eyes never leaving
Doyle's form.
"What do you think?" the Irishman rolled his eyes heavenward. "They didn't
just let me die, that's going on. When I jumped onto that... thing, I
thought I'd die, go to heaven, have a nice life, but no such luck. Once a
messenger, always a messenger, they told me. So here I am. Giving you a
message."
"So you're a ghost?" Buffy asked cautiously.
"Sort of," he nodded, "But not really." He reached out and touched her arm.
She jumped back, touching the spot herself, "You're solid."
"Yeah," his grin was back in place. "I'm getting better at that. I'm able to
hold that for about half an hour now. It's quite an experience." He suddenly
rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air, his gaze directed upward
again, "Yeah, yeah. Calm down." He chuckled and looked at vampire and
slayer, "They're getting annoyed. No socializing, you know. Nothing allowed
besides duty."
"They?" Buffy raised a questioning brow.
"The Powers up there. Really focused on their tasks. Boring. Yeah, yeah," he
shouted. "Okay, so here's the message. You want to know why she remembers, I
suppose," he said. Seeing them both nod, he continued, "It's all about your
sacrifice," he looked at Angel.
"My sacrifice?"
"When you agreed to have the time turned back," Doyle clarified, "You made a
bargain for her life. And so they gave her back to you. Willow's spell," he
said, grinning at their confused expressions. "Hey, you don't think some
human spell could bring back a person from death, do you? *They* brought you
back or rather, they altered the spell so that it worked. And back you were.
But in order to bring you back they also had to restore your memory."
"Uh - really hating to contradict here, but I lost my memory. I'm just
regaining it now."
"That's mot quite right," Doyle, said, "Your memory wasn't lost, just
hidden. Anyways. In order to restore your memory they had to bring
everything back. You can't just leave out a part."
"So the day that was turned back was part of it."
"Exactly," Doyle smiled at Angel. "That's exactly what happened. You were
always such a clever fellow."
"Can you tell us what happens now?" Buffy asked.
"Sorry. I'm just a messenger, the future is no more apparent to me than for
you. They don't tell me. The guys are secretive, I'm telling you..." he
sighed deeply, then looked at the ceiling again, "I'm coming. Sorry my
friends, but I have to go. Time's over."
With a regretful smile, he spread his arms, "Was nice seeing you. Both of
you," he said, bowing again.
"Doyle," Angel reached out but didn't touch him, "I'm glad too."
The Irishman nodded, his eyes suddenly feeling moist. "Let's not get
emotional here," he tried to cover his reaction, "I just did my job. And...
oh, I almost forgot. They gave me another message for you. Whatever it
means. They said to remind you that together you are strong. Helps any?"
"Yeah," Angel nodded. "I think it does."
"Good," Doyle smiled again while he was already beginning to disintegrate.
"Uh-oh, time's up. Nice meetin' you again, Buffy. See you. Give my love to
the princess," he added quickly, his image fading more and more. "I'll
always regret we weren't given a bit more time."
There was a little noise and he was gone. For a moment both, slayer and
vampire, just stared at the spot where he'd been only seconds before.
Buffy was the first to find her voice again, "Together we are strong?" she
eyed her lover quizzically.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Someone said that before and he was right. Together
we're strong. We must never forget that."
"He was a good friend," it wasn't a question. "I'm sorry he died."
Angel looked at her, the woman he loved more than his life. He was sorry
too, and had missed Doyle, his friend, a person who had been able to
understand what he was going to up to a certain extent. He'd mourned his
death and blamed himself for it for a while, but it was gone now and an
unexpected smile played on his lips, when he bent down and kissed her on the
tip of her nose, "Me too," he said, "and I miss him, but he doesn't seem
unhappy, does he? And I have a definite feeling it wasn't the last we've
seen of him," he shook his head and pulled her close, "Together we are
strong," he repeated the words. "We need to believe that. You were right, we
need to believe."
And when he felt her warm body pressing against his, he felt himself really
believing those words, felt hope and the same optimism that had been shining
in her eyes before and he could've sworn that he heard Doyle laugh from
above them.
... to be continued
"Bloody hell," Spike shouted, spinning around and staking a vampire. "You
stupid idiots, will you stop trying to bite my neck! I'm a bleeding vampire
you block heads." Slipping into his game face, he punched another vampire
straight into its face.
"And I'm no vampire at all," came Faith's hiss from the side. "But you
shouldn't try fooling around with a slayer either, it's lethal," she said
while another demon disintegrated into ashes right in front of her. "Xander,
look out!"
The young man whirled around but the approaching vampire was already on him,
its head lowering towards the human's throat.
"Will you stop trying to eat my boyfriend," Anya jumped the vampire's back,
clinging to him she began to hit its head with the stake she was holding in
her hand. Then the demon was suddenly gone and Anya stumbled to the ground.
"Next time," Faith said, towering above her, "no hitting, just sta-, oh no,
you don't," with a swift movement she was able to remove a demon from her
back, slamming it into the wall in the process. "Sorry," she said, not
feeling sorry at all, "but this is your stop." The stake found its mark and
for a moment silence settled over the tunnel. "Are we all clear?" she asked
looking around. "Kate?"
"Fine," the police officer coughed through all the ashes in the air. "That
was quite a bunch of them."
"Yeah, a bunch, but stupid as hell," Spike remarked, dusting off his
clothes. "You know, I just realized that vampire ashes are a real nuisance
if you try to get them out of your clothing. Last time I washed-"
"Wait a second," Faith interrupted looking at him very oddly, "you actually
*wash* your clothes?"
"Of course I wash my clothes," he seemed honestly insulted by her words,
"Just because I'm a vampire it doesn't mean I've lost my sense of style. Clean
clothes are a part of it."
"Then how many outfits do you own exactly?"
"Uh - one," he mumbled.
"And if you..." she tilted her head, then started laughing, "you mean
you're..." she was now laughing so hard she had to hold your belly. "Oh
God!"
"Hey, no need to make fun of a vampire," he grumbled.
"Well, not that this isn't extremely interesting, especially after we're
barely survived a vampire attack, but may I remind you that there's still an
open hellmouth waiting for us." Xander shook his head not quite believing
what he was hearing.
"Just thinking that Spike's standing naked while..." the slayer couldn't
stop the mental images flying through her mind and as a result, the laughing
wouldn't stop.
"Okay," the vampire growled, "I think we all got it now. Stop laughing!"
She took a deep breath, her grin still wide, "But Xander is right, we need
to get going."
"Do you also think it's cold all of a sudden?" Kate asked, rubbing her arms.
"Yeah," Anya agreed, "it's almost freezing."
"And what's this?" Faith pointed at the spot where the light was coming
from.
"Mist ... uh-oh," Xander said alarmed. "I-" The words died in his throat and
confused he tried to speak on, but no sound was coming out. He was reminded
by another time when the Gentlemen had stolen their voices. 'Anya', he
mouthed trying to communicate with his girlfriend.
'What's going on?' she mouthed back.
'Bloody hell," Xander could read from Spike before the mist became denser
and seeing each other was suddenly difficult.
**Oh great**, Xander thought, **no voice, so sight, just what we need**.
Then Anya disappeared completely from his view.
*****
Buffy blinked against the bright light of the cavern she found herself in.
The last thing she remembered was encountering too many Morah-demons that
had been sent to take them prisoner and lucky for them, they succeeded.
Angel had... Angel! Panic surged through her and she frantically looked
around in search of her lover.
When her eyes fell on him, a sound escaped her mouth. He was huddled into a
corner, his eyes closed, bruises marring his face, his head and back leaning
against the wall. She scrambled over and took his hand, "Angel," she
whispered, her hands moving over him, checking him for serious injuries.
"Angel, please, wake up," the last word was lost in a sob.
Where were they, what was going on? The Morah demons had overwhelmed them,
and then Buffy remembered falling into unconsciousness and now she found
herself at a unknown location, with an unknown fate although she had a very
good idea what this was all about.
"Buffy."
The hoarse voice of her lover had her head snapping around. "Angel, how are
you?" she asked urgently.
"As if a truck ran right over me," he replied, looking at her, then around,
"Where are we?"
"That's the one-million-dollar question," she said, getting up and looking
for exits. There were windows, but each one of them was secured by bars that
looked very solid. The only door was made of iron and seemed solid as well.
"It looks like we're locked up... somewhere."
"Yeah, that much I gathered," Angel muttered and struggled to get up. With a
groan, he leaned forward, and Buffy was by his side in an instant.
"Easy there, big guy, easy. You might be a vampire, but they beat us up
pretty hard or rather you," she said a bit sheepishly. "I only remember
being hit on the head and passing out. Not very heroic."
He smiled at her lovingly when he finally straightened. "I saw you go down,"
he said, his eyes shadowed. He could remember the rage when had seen them
touching his mate and the panic when he saw her sink to the ground. "But if
it's any help, I didn't hold out much longer," he grimaced and touched his
ribs. He could tell a couple of them were broken, but also healing already.
Fortunately, he'd fed before they'd left the mansion and was in no need of
blood.
Buffy looked around again, "This sucks," she said planting her hands on her
hips, "if I at least knew where we are," she shook her head, hating feeling
helpless, hating being the prey and not the hunter.
"I don't think there's much we can do," Angel walked over to the bars
securing the windows, "There's no way we can get out the usual way and the
witches aren't with us - unfortunately."
"Oh God, Willow!" the slayer paled, "Do you think they're alright? Do you
think their spell worked? And what about the others... God, Angel, we need
to get out of here."
"I agree, but as I said before, I don't see how," he moved towards the door,
trying the handle, he shook his head, "Damn it. This really isn't what we
needed."
Buffy began to pace the room they were in, her strides impatient and angry,
"There has to be a way out of here," she said, punching one fist into the
palm of the other hand. "The others need our help."
"I know," Angel said quietly, "but-"
She whirled around, suddenly furious with him, with the situation, with her
own helplessness, "Don't be so damned rational," she spat. "They could die,
Angel, our friends could be dead already, don't you even care?"
The same moment, when his eyes clouded over with pain, she wanted to kill
herself for saying it. "Oh, Angel," tears welled up in her eyes, "I'm
sorry," she whispered, one of her hands flying to her lips. "I didn't mean
that, I swear, I didn't."
His answering smile was a bit shaky, "I know," he assured her, holding a
hand out for her.
Without hesitation she went into his arms, holding him, "I'm sorry. I'm
sorry," she repeated. "I know you care. It's just... I feel so helpless. I'm
the slayer, I'm supposed to protect them, and here I am, caged in, damned to
do nothing." She leaned her head against his chest and his hand was stroking
her hair.
"I know," he said, "I understand. I feel the same. Our friends are out
there, fighting our fight."
"Yeah," she agreed, laying a hand over the spot where his heart had once
beaten, the heart that was still now, yet nevertheless feeling so strongly,
and... Her eyes flew open, she gasped and something close to pain ripped
through her head and body. Images, playing vividly in her mind. Images of
another time, another place and...
"Oh God," her head jerked up, her eyes locking with his, hers full of pain
and grief, his confused, not understanding.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook them slightly, "Buffy! What is it? What
is the matter?"
"Angel... I... you..." she stuttered.
"I, what?"
"You were human." She forced the words through her constricted throat.
He jerked back, staring at her, "What?" he whispered, with horror clenching
his guts. "What are you talking about?"
"You were human," she repeated, calmer now. The images in her head were
clearing, giving way to understanding, opening the gates of memory. But with
the memories came more pain, more guilt, "Oh, God," she sobbed, clutching to
him, "you were human. I felt your heart beat."
"Buffy," he choked, realizing what was happening, remembering a time when
she'd said the exact same thing. A moment when she'd cried in his arms,
clinging to him with all her might, begging for more time, for another fate,
for mercy.
"And you gave it back. You asked them to turn you back. Oh God!" She was
sobbing harder now. She held him tightly, desperately needing the closure,
guilt almost overwhelming her. "And I... oh God," there was nothing she
could do or say to excuse her actions, nothing that would ever repay what
he'd given up for her.
Then another memory came. She saw herself and Angel facing each other,
shouting at each other, hurting each other, heard herself telling him how
much she loved Riley, how much she trusted Riley... "I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Angel, I'm so sorry," she sobbed again, not able to look at him. "I hurt
you," she cried, "I never loved Riley, Angel. I'm sorry, I lied to you."
"What?" again he was confused.
"I was telling you I loved Riley. I never did, I promise," she touched his
face, caressed his cheeks, her eyes begging for forgiveness. "What sort of
person was I? What happened? How could I go and be with Riley, tell you I
loved him after what you gave up for me? What kind of person does something
like that?"
"Shhh," he soothed her, kissing her forehead, "Buffy-"
"No," her reply was sharp. "Only a very cold-hearted person would do such a
thing. Only a bi-"
"You didn't know," he interrupted her gently. "You didn't know, Buffy," he
repeated, his gentle hands trailing over her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, his
eyes shining with love, with understanding.
"What?" she shook her head in confusion. "That's nonsense, Angel. I lost my
memory only recently..." she trailed off when she saw him shaking his head,
"What?"
"Don't ask me why you regained the memory of that day now," he began in a
try to explain, "Because I don't understand it. Obviously... although it
should be impossible... you are remembering it with all the other stuff in
your life. But you were never meant to remember that day."
"Why?" Her eyes were brimming with tears, begging him to explain.
"In order to turn me back into a vampire, the Oracles or the Powers That Be,
whoever was in charge, had to turn back the day. When I asked them to turn
me back I had no idea that would be the only way, but considering all facts
I agreed." The smile on his face was sad, but full of love, "There was no
way I could watch you die without being able to help."
"But why don't... didn't I remember?"
"It was to spare you the agony of remembering something that could never
be."
"But... you...?" she didn't finish the sentence, but he understood
nevertheless.
"One of us had to remember or it might have happen again," he explained,
stroking her cheek.
"So all this time you remembered and I was completely oblivious?" She saw
him nod and went on, "Well that sucks."
Despite all the pain the revelation had caused, Angel felt himself chuckle,
"Yeah," he agreed, "It does. But then our life sucks most of the time
anyway."
"True," she nodded, resolutely wiping the tears from her cheeks with the
back of her hands, "But no more," she said, her chin coming up. "This time
we're going to stay together."
"Buffy..." he wanted to remind her of the still very existent danger, but
what could he say in the face of the hope and optimism she'd forced into her
eyes, when he was looking at her and the love was shining from them.
"We will stay together," her voice was firm. "You have to believe it. And we
will survive this and so will all our friends. We need to believe it."
"Buffy-" he started again, but was cut off by a voice.
"Again with the negative," the voice chuckled and they both spun around to look
at the person talking to them. They hadn't heard a door opening and when Angel
came face to face with the owner of the voice, he almost fainted.
"D-Doyle?" he gasped.
"Aye, that's me. Alan Francis Doyle, at your service, sir," he grinned and
added, "madam," then bowled slightly.
"You're dead," Angel managed to choke out.
"My, aren't you clever tonight," the Irishman joked. "Yeah, I am. So what?
You're dead, too," he said, grinning. "Hasn't slowed you down so far. Nice
to meet you again, Buffy," he turned towards the slayer, his grin widening
into a leer. "Can't blame the bugger," he sighed, "He has remarkable taste."
"What's going on?" the vampire asked confused, his eyes never leaving
Doyle's form.
"What do you think?" the Irishman rolled his eyes heavenward. "They didn't
just let me die, that's going on. When I jumped onto that... thing, I
thought I'd die, go to heaven, have a nice life, but no such luck. Once a
messenger, always a messenger, they told me. So here I am. Giving you a
message."
"So you're a ghost?" Buffy asked cautiously.
"Sort of," he nodded, "But not really." He reached out and touched her arm.
She jumped back, touching the spot herself, "You're solid."
"Yeah," his grin was back in place. "I'm getting better at that. I'm able to
hold that for about half an hour now. It's quite an experience." He suddenly
rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air, his gaze directed upward
again, "Yeah, yeah. Calm down." He chuckled and looked at vampire and
slayer, "They're getting annoyed. No socializing, you know. Nothing allowed
besides duty."
"They?" Buffy raised a questioning brow.
"The Powers up there. Really focused on their tasks. Boring. Yeah, yeah," he
shouted. "Okay, so here's the message. You want to know why she remembers, I
suppose," he said. Seeing them both nod, he continued, "It's all about your
sacrifice," he looked at Angel.
"My sacrifice?"
"When you agreed to have the time turned back," Doyle clarified, "You made a
bargain for her life. And so they gave her back to you. Willow's spell," he
said, grinning at their confused expressions. "Hey, you don't think some
human spell could bring back a person from death, do you? *They* brought you
back or rather, they altered the spell so that it worked. And back you were.
But in order to bring you back they also had to restore your memory."
"Uh - really hating to contradict here, but I lost my memory. I'm just
regaining it now."
"That's mot quite right," Doyle, said, "Your memory wasn't lost, just
hidden. Anyways. In order to restore your memory they had to bring
everything back. You can't just leave out a part."
"So the day that was turned back was part of it."
"Exactly," Doyle smiled at Angel. "That's exactly what happened. You were
always such a clever fellow."
"Can you tell us what happens now?" Buffy asked.
"Sorry. I'm just a messenger, the future is no more apparent to me than for
you. They don't tell me. The guys are secretive, I'm telling you..." he
sighed deeply, then looked at the ceiling again, "I'm coming. Sorry my
friends, but I have to go. Time's over."
With a regretful smile, he spread his arms, "Was nice seeing you. Both of
you," he said, bowing again.
"Doyle," Angel reached out but didn't touch him, "I'm glad too."
The Irishman nodded, his eyes suddenly feeling moist. "Let's not get
emotional here," he tried to cover his reaction, "I just did my job. And...
oh, I almost forgot. They gave me another message for you. Whatever it
means. They said to remind you that together you are strong. Helps any?"
"Yeah," Angel nodded. "I think it does."
"Good," Doyle smiled again while he was already beginning to disintegrate.
"Uh-oh, time's up. Nice meetin' you again, Buffy. See you. Give my love to
the princess," he added quickly, his image fading more and more. "I'll
always regret we weren't given a bit more time."
There was a little noise and he was gone. For a moment both, slayer and
vampire, just stared at the spot where he'd been only seconds before.
Buffy was the first to find her voice again, "Together we are strong?" she
eyed her lover quizzically.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Someone said that before and he was right. Together
we're strong. We must never forget that."
"He was a good friend," it wasn't a question. "I'm sorry he died."
Angel looked at her, the woman he loved more than his life. He was sorry
too, and had missed Doyle, his friend, a person who had been able to
understand what he was going to up to a certain extent. He'd mourned his
death and blamed himself for it for a while, but it was gone now and an
unexpected smile played on his lips, when he bent down and kissed her on the
tip of her nose, "Me too," he said, "and I miss him, but he doesn't seem
unhappy, does he? And I have a definite feeling it wasn't the last we've
seen of him," he shook his head and pulled her close, "Together we are
strong," he repeated the words. "We need to believe that. You were right, we
need to believe."
And when he felt her warm body pressing against his, he felt himself really
believing those words, felt hope and the same optimism that had been shining
in her eyes before and he could've sworn that he heard Doyle laugh from
above them.
... to be continued